USS Destinare: Espionage
by T'Leisha
Summary: Post NEM. Destinare- Latin for Destiny- Will the crew face up to theirs? Chapters 1 and 2 up now.Chapter 3 coming soon. As the crew get ready to launch, a stranger lies in wait. Please R&R!
1. I've Got the World on a String

-1I've Got the World On a String

_Disclaimer: Star Trek and related works, belong to paramount. This story is written entirely for the enjoyment of myself and others. No money is being made from this story, and no copyright infringement is intended._

_An Original Character fan fiction. _

_An introduction to the crew of the USS Destinare _

"Well, I never thought that when you'd chose your new CMO, it would be me." Dr. Darren sat on the desk, belonging to the Captain of the newly re-fit Galaxy Class, USS Destinare.

In all honesty, the ship looked pretty much as it did before. Except with new navy blue carpeting on the bridge, and newly installed bio-neural circuitry to replace the now outdated isolinear system.

"Well my dear, that's nepotism at its finest."

Dr Darren turned to see the man who'd just entered the ready room.

"Your not serious?" The Doctor made no move to stand to attention.

"No, actually, I had no say in any of the new recruits what-so-ever. I've got a new first officer, a new chief engineer, and a new helmswoman, all who came in off the same ship. All newly promoted to their positions."

"Well, at least your senior staff will know one another, what about everyone else, they haven't replaced your entire staff have they?"

"No. Everyone else is still here. Although most of the junior staff have been replaced also. Now that everyone is finally here, we leave tomorrow."

The USS Destinare had been wasting away in dry-dock for two months, with most of her crew dragging their heals around earth, waiting for a new mission. Now they finally had their orders- Their mandate was a simple but important one. The Federation had decided that in the last few years, too much of their focus had been on war. First the Dominion conflict, and then the collapse of the Romulan government at the hands of the late Praetor Shinzon had led to a six month long debacle- Despite the Romulan promise of peace.

Now they were finally getting back out there; as wanderers and explorers.

Well, tomorrow they would be wanderers and explorers, tonight, they were bored.

"Well then Doctor Darren. If you're settled in, why don't you relax, before the fun begins?"

"Well I was thinking about maybe an hour in the Holodeck. Yes, I think I'll do that." Doctor Darren got up to leave, but paused before she reached the door. "I am glad I'm here."

Captain Ross Darren smiled widely, and he knew that tomorrow was a new start, for a new crew, and a new future.

"Join me for dinner later, Doctor."

"Aye Sir." She left swinging her arms, with a smile on her face.

1

**The Dance of Roses**

_London- 16th Century_

The cobblestone floor of the street shone in the moonlight. On this night, London looked peaceful, and one could easily be forgiven if they thought that this was a happy place.

Once upon a time, children filled these empty roads- skipping over ropes and chasing one another with careless abandon. The children were happy, even with empty bellies and scruffy faces- Their parents would take care of them, the children's only concern was work, and play.

Perhaps school, for the very, very lucky few.

Things changed here, and surviving became even more of a struggle.

Now the children no longer played, no longer procrastinated in the rat infested London streets. If you had somewhere to go, you went there quickly. With you, you carried a satchel or a pocket full of pretty red roses.

In this place, the days were long but the endless night that engulfed Europe was even longer.

These where dark times, and they did not concern themselves with rags or riches. In this time, you died whether you were moneyed or not. If you were sick, you died. This was a most indiscriminate sickness. Even those who could afford doctors found it to be a futile struggle, and the medicine men could not save their wealthy class men.

The rats ran like a tidal wave across the dark street, stopping to feed on the drunken peasants littering the road. They lay there, with small mouths feasting on their flesh, and still do not move or care. Men too drunk to be concerned with filthy rats on their filthy bodies. These were not diseased; for if they were, they would not be allowed to walk the streets so freely. However, if they would continue to be so careless, they probably soon would be.

A cart pulls up into the street, a single horse, and two seated men perched upon a wooden bench. These men bring with them, an even worse scent than that of the town; the stench of rotting flesh. They would come in the dark, and on their cart they would carry the dead- piled up on top of one another, wrapped in sheets. Soon they would collect another, and before the night was over, the bodies would be piled together on the ground and their flesh would be burned.

The men walked towards a nearby house. The house bore the telltale red X. A warning to all

-To stay away- for their house was cursed by the sickness. In front of the door was a tiny parcel, wrapped in a woollen swaddling cloth, another victim. This one was just a baby. The parcel was thrown haphazardly on top of the stinking pile.

The men on the cart left as quickly as they'd arrived.

This was a sad sight, and Sarah had seen it all. She would help someone today. Not a plague victim -That was beyond her capabilities- but a man. She had heard stories that this man had had some sort of an accident, involving a hot poker he used in his job as a blacksmith. The man had quite a severe infection- or rather, that was what she would call it. The local barbers and doctors were calling it "a bilious imbalance of the humours." Apparently his leg was full of bile. The medicine men's solution was to cut his leg so that the bile would leave his body and he would be purified. Of course Sarah knew that it wouldn't work. His leg was gangrenous, and if he wasn't treated soon, he would likely die. Even with her intervention, Sarah knew his chances weren't good.

So now, she'd set off looking for the man whom -according to what she'd been told- Was lying on a wooden table in the backroom of the local barber's shop.

The building looked as ramshackle and hopeless as the rest of the town. It was surrounded with other buildings, they all felt so packed in and patched up, and they all -minus the barbers- had that familiar X painted on the doors, and wooden boards on the windows.

Sarah felt as though she was walking on the graves of hundreds. Or the soon to be graves anyway. Nevertheless, she knew that today she had a purpose, a job to do, however unsettling her present situation may feel. She looked at the boarded up windows one last time, and marched forward into the only building in the street with its lamps still burning.

"Please just drink some of this friend, you'll feel all the better for it." A female voice carried from the back of the building along with the rest of the hustle and bustle from the barber shop. Sarah had thought it quite a busy place for the middle of the night. The shop was bursting with activity, most of it rather panicked.

The rooms and hallways were lit quite well, and as she walked along the long hallway, another terrible smell hit her. This shop was certainly not the cleanest place she'd ever been to, but considering the time and place, not the worst either. The stench of decay, disease and rotting food practically flooded the place, and the worst thing -bodies seemed to be piled up in one of the rooms. Fortunately the room was situated on what appeared to be a separate hallway, making it easy for one to avoid the place. It was one of six rooms that she could see, three on one side of the central hallway that she walked through, and two on the other. It seemed that those five rooms encompassed the barber's working and living areas. They were all symmetrical, and all quite modest, containing tables, chairs and the various instruments and items the barber needed to do his job. One contained a small stove, various pots and pans and a bucket, apparently, a combined kitchen and latrine area.

Sarah quickly made her way to the sound of the woman's voice, hoping she'd lead her to the man she'd been looking for.

"I don't need anymore whiskey nursemaid, my head's addled enough."

"Oh trust me sir, what your goin' through, you' be wantin' it soon enough, might as well take it now, you'll only be doing yourself a favour."

She followed the conversation and found what she'd been looking for. Today, she'd be the one doing that man a favour.

"Excuse me… Sir, Mr Brown? Are you Brown?" She asked tentatively as she stood by the door.

The man looked at Sarah, with her long raven hair and her clean cut, tailored but simple grey dress. Her washed face and ruby red lips, and suddenly, the look on his face changed, from one of pain to simple confusion. For a moment he said nothing at all. Then…

"Your not from around here girl, well, come her and talk to me for a time would you? It's been quite some time since I've had the company of a beautiful young woman."

"Certainly not one he hasn't had to pay for anyway" the nursemaid replied.

"Oh that's it is it girl? I bet that's it, well then! How much are you?" The man asked, smiling a smile that bared his crooked rotten teeth. Sarah grimaced inwardly but was careful not to let it show as she replied, with as little emotion as she could muster;

"I'm not a whore."

"Ignore him love, he's fat and old, and dying anyway. Although how he managed to get fat when everyone else is poor and starving is a mystery." The nurse smiled a wide smile, one which was quite literally- wooden, at Sarah.

"I'm a Doctor Sir, I'm here to help you" Sarah said as she slowly approached from the doorway and headed towards the makeshift bed that, in truth, was just a wooden table.

"Oh don't make me laugh girl, you're not a doctor, and your not coming anywhere near me"

"Mr Brown" She started "Your leg is badly infected" She said, as she stared down at blackened mass attached to his thigh. She continued "You must be in a lot of pain, I can't imagine what your feeling sir but I may be able to help you. Your leg needs to be amputated or you will die. Please sir, allow me?"

"Your mad, your mad girl, you think I'm going to let some mad whore come near me and cut off my leg! There is no need, it will heal!"

The nursemaid was right about one thing; Mr Brown was fat. As Sarah looked at his reddened face and listened to his wheezing gasps, she wondered if she would bother. Was a greyed balding old man in a barbaric era worth saving? She swallowed the thought. It was time to get to work.

"You shall do this sir, you can survive. Look at your leg? An ordinary person couldn't take anymore, he'd be begging for death. Believe me when I say I can help you and let me try."

"Nurse! Give me that damned whiskey! Girl, what's your name?"

"My name is Sarah."

"Well, Sarah, save my life then. Ill do it, I'm dead anyway. What's to lose?"

Sarah smiled. She'd succeeded in convincing him to let her help. Now comes the hard part.

Sarah glanced around the room until her eyes fell on what she'd been looking for - a large plank of wood, bound in weathered and worn leather. She picked up the item and handed it to Mr Brown.

"Sir, bite down. Hard."

He did as he was told. Moments later, the hustle and bustle of the barber shop stopped, and the screams began. Even the moaning of the dying men littering the house quieted to a whisper, for they'd all heard something so terrifying, that it'd even distracted them from their own deaths.

The saw squelched against flesh and dug against bone, Mr Brown's arms had been tied to the bed, as Sarah had complained that his flailing was off-putting. The nursemaid, Ann, long time servant of Mr Brown- simply stared in sick fascination. She would often close her eyes, and think how the sound was reminiscent of cutting a joint of meat for his dinner. If she ignored the screaming, she could almost imagine herself back in the kitchen at the inn Mr Brown once owned. Before everything changed- before his downfall. Before they carried roses in their pockets and handkerchiefs over their mouths. She still found it hard to believe it had come to this.

All of a sudden there was silence in the room. Ann stared at the bloodied hump that lay on the floor and wondered when that had happened. She noticed it was a little quite. Mr Brown had probably passed out, nevertheless she continued to stare, at the leg, at Brown, at the young girl who claimed to be a doctor, and yet seemed to look nothing but confused at the moment.

What was going on? Ann the nursemaid found herself feeling a little confused too.

"I failed" The raven haired girl who was no longer clean -but instead covered in grime, blood and fluids that Ann daren't try to identify- said with a barely audible whisper.

"What love? What is it?" Panic slowly creeping into the old nursemaid's voice.

"I failed. He's dead. It's over."

2

**The Sorrow of Before**

_Relliketh, Bajor- 2355_

"Legate, Legate!"

The Legate stopped in his tracks.

"What do you want Dal?" Asked the high ranking Cardassian officer.

"Sir the labourer you asked to be brought to you, he's here, he's under guard in your office, as ordered."

The young Dal waited, for what, the Legate was unsure.

"Well, why are you still stood there Dal?"

"Are you not going to attend to him immediately Legate?"

The Legate smiled, "In my own time Dal Ker, in my own time, for now, I am taking a walk."

"As you wish, Legate. I shall personally guard the labourer until your return." With that, Dal Ker left the small garden enclosure the Legate stood in. The Legate decided, that there was no rush, for now, he would simply enjoy the cool Bajoran air.

In the enclave where his office was kept, the garden was perhaps the place the Legate found most comfortable. Despite the fact that it remained uniquely alien, it had a certain charm. Often he would spend many hours here enjoying the scenery, it often proved to be a welcome break from the duty and rigor of the every day life of a man so highly ranked. The Legate enjoyed his work immensely, but he was the first to admit, sometimes he found it to be somewhat intense. He looked around the garden at the Cardassian soldiers, whom he assumed were off duty, seemingly enjoying the area as much as he. There weren't many gardens like this on Cardassia, and the planet often looked barren in comparison to this.

Amongst the groups of fellow Cardassians, walked Bajorans, usually servants. The Legate found that their bedraggled appearance ruined the beauty of the enclave. He considered that perhaps he should send them away, before finally deciding that it would be kinder to simply make sure that they where well clothed. Unable to stop himself, a small snort escaped his throat as he realised how pathetic it was that he was concerned for the wellbeing of these lesser beings. He allowed himself to think for a moment that perhaps he was getting soft in his old age. "Well, there's something to be done for that" He said to no one in particular as he walked back into the enclave and headed in the direction of his office.

As he expected, upon reaching the office, he found Dal Ker waiting patiently- Ever the servile lapdog that he was.

"Thank you Dal, that will be all, and the others may leave also." As proud Cardassians marched out of the office, the Legate sat stiffly in his seat. The sight in front of him was a common one, and he had certainly seen it often enough, but today was different, today the subject was someone special.

There in front of him lay a man, barely conscious and by the looks of him, not long for this world. The man was a Bajoran labourer from the mines that the Legate so adeptly oversaw. He looked like any other Bajoran from the mines- Thin, dirty and broken. Today was the day that the suffering of this man would end. He was lucky.

"Kell Lasar" Said the Legate from his vantage point, seated at a desk, which naturally- and in a rather Cardassian manner, rose above everything else in the room. He, like many Cardassians, liked to look down on the world.

The Bajoran man did not respond. Not that the Legate expected him to, the man was just sport, and he knew exactly what his place was.

"Kell Lasar, I have not yet decided how I am going to kill you, and whether or not I should make your family watch. What do you think? And this time, I expect an answer from you."

For a moment there was only silence. Then the man on the floor raised his head.

"I would not want my family to see this."

"No, I would expect not, but you realise that if I don't bring them in here, they will never see you again, and you shall never see them."

"They will remember me… as I was" The man choked and spluttered, his throat hoarse. The Legate doubted he'd had any water for many days.

For a moment, the noble Cardassian stared in disgust. He began to speak, "You know Kell, I am not at all fond of Cardassian Torture devices. Indeed, it's true that we like things to be clean. We also like things to be efficient. The subcutaneous devices that we use are certainly that- They stimulate pain receptors without the need for messy torture devices, No mess, no blood- Very efficient indeed. Very Cardassian. The problem is, they're just no fun at all."

The Legate rose, and began rubbing his hands together in anticipation. "So today Bajoran. I shall not be using one of those."

An hour later, the Legate was now down from his desk, level with the Bajoran- who lay there, naked and bleeding.

With a trail of crimson seeping out from where his eye used to be, and cuts adorning his chest and thighs, the Bajoran looked a sorry sight. The Legate found this encounter to be entertaining certainly, but he decided, not entertaining enough.

"I am afraid, Bajoran, that I am bored." The Legate waited for a response, but none came. "As I expected really." Said the Cardassian. "Aren't you wondering why you're here Bajoran, why is it that Kell Lasar has been singled out? Of all people?"

This time, the Bajoran man made an effort to try and drag himself into a sitting position. He looked at his Cardassian master with surprise, and with a quizzical look in his remaining eye.

"Why?" Asked Kell. The Legate planned to enjoy the next part of this exercise. He brought himself level with the Bajoran, and looked into his eyes and said; "Because of your son."

The Legate immensely enjoyed telling Kell Lasar how the guards had caught Kell's five year old son attempting to steal the lunch of another guard. The Bajoran was being punished for the actions of a starving child. "We Cardassians raise our children not to be thieves!" Bellowed the Legate. "We raise them to respect their elders! Therefore it is you, whom have failed! It is you who must be punished." The Legate tapped his wristband and ordered "Bring him in!"

A moment later, in walked a guard with a small Bajoran boy.

"Your son has been watching you on a monitor in another room, he has seen your weakness."

The Legate urged the boy towards the Bajoran man. "Now he shall watch you die."

3

**A Risean Fairytale**

_Risa - 2376_

**The Apartment 1900 hours.**

"Skye, were gonna be late!" Voy waited by the door, his ash blonde hair neatly trimmed and his clothes pressed. This was the second night in a row that Skye had decided to take her time getting dressed. The way things were going, he imagined he'd be spending most of their vacation just waiting for her to dress. Not that he minded, to Voy, she was an object of worship.

"Cool your telepathic head, I am almost done!" Came the muffled response from the luxury bedroom, where Skye Andrews would no doubt be wading through the explosion of clothes she had brought with her on this trip, she most certainly was not one to pack light.

The Betazoid Voy Iban had decided that, Skye- The love of his life, and light of his world- Was quite possibly the most scatter brained counsellor he had ever had the pleasure of meeting. He had also decided- At the same time- That she was perfect as exactly that.

But their reservation time was fast approaching.

"Were going to lose our table, and I know that you haven't even decided what to wear yet!" He shouted across the room. "Try the pink one," he added.

**Still in the Apartment 1908 hours..**

"I'm done!" Voy- mouth agape and eyes wide- thought he had never seen anything more beautiful, her pink backless dress flowed over her feet, and gave the appearance she was floating rather than walking, and it was perfect. "So, the pink one- good choice then?" Asked Skye, her red hair flowing over her shoulders like a fountain of fire.

"Perfect. Absolutely right, come on, I'll buy you a Warp Core Breach."

**The Engine Room bar and restaurant 1945 hours and two Warp Core Breaches Later..**

"Why are you playing with your food?" Asked a positively giddy Skye from behind a large glass containing her third Warp Core Breach. The yellow liquid sloshed as she hurridley and quite forcefully put the drink down onto the table. "Don't you like your _Oskoids_?"

"They're not bad, I'm just a little preoccupied is all" Voy put down his fork and stared into the eyes of his love. For a time he just looked at her and said nothing, and then, finally; "I miss you so much." He said, with a smile, and then his smile faded as he took her hand. She looked back at him, her hazel eyes shining as bright as they always did.

"What do you mean? Im right here, don't be silly."

"But for how long, in our line of work, there are no guarantees. You've been so busy with patients since the war ended- and its been one long year. Now we are being reassigned, and I miss you already. I can't let it happen Skye, I can't."

"It our job Voy, that's the nature of this business. We knew that. We always know that."

He looked at her with sad eyes, and she looked back. He saw so much pain etched on her face, and not for the first time, wondered how she could be so understanding of peoples feelings and yet, be so lost.

**The Sunset Beach 2130 hours**

Voy walked along the beach, holding the hand of the woman he swore to spend the rest of his life with, and could not have felt more content. This was what his life should always be, this he knew for certain. He wanted to spend every waking moment in her company.

Even at night, the sand was still warm and the water was still tepid. This of course was due to the fact that every aspect of Risa's environment was controlled, to be perfectly suited to everyone. He marvelled at how this entire globe was engineered to suit the needs of so many races, there really was something to suit everyone here. Of course, although Skye enjoyed her vacation, she thought that the fact that it wasn't really real detracted from the beauty of the environment. Nevertheless, this was a moment he wanted to remember forever.

He stopped walking and she stopped beside him, and he looked at her, and for a moment they just stood like that, together.

"Skye?" He spoke in soft tones, unsure of what was going to happen next.

"Yes?" She asked, her eyes wide and curious, as always her enthusiasm for simply living, was infectious.

"Marry me Skye, just, marry me.."

4

**Ghosts of P'Jem**

_P'Jem Monastery- 2149_

The room was quiet. The melodic sounds of the bells, and the soft footfalls of the monks were the only sounds to be heard. A ceremony was taking place, and even now, the participants knew that they were witnessing one of the most important events in Vulcan history.

Today, one of the most prominent high priestesses on Vulcan had died. In accordance with tradition, she would be entombed on P'Jem.

The main hall was filled with people, and yet, not a sound could be heard from one of them. They stood shoulder to shoulder, wearing simple white robes, and in between the rows, was an aisle where nobody stood. The room was lit by candlelight, and for some time now, had been silent.

T'Lin stood tall, her eyes front, her chin pointed ever so slightly upwards. She waited, just like everyone else in the room, she simply waited in silence, not wanting to admit to the feelings of apprehension rushing through her. She had never attended an event of this kind before, and didn't quite know what to expect. All she knew for now, was that she had stood in the same spot unmoving, for several hours. Her feet had begun to ache, but decided, that it would likely be construed as a mark of disrespect if she allowed herself to sit.

So she waited.

… And waited

….And waited…

"The Procession will begin." Came a voice from outside the main entrance to the hall. One by one, the robed parishioners turned to face the direction of the voice. As they turned, the faint sound of bells rose by several octaves.

As T'Lin turned, she watched several young priestesses enter the room, each stood at a corner of what looked like a large hammock covered by elaborate cushions and quilts of varying colours, this, she surmised, was the deathbed of Lady T'Hatha.

As the priestesses walked down the aisle, the men and women of the monastery looked upon the face of T'Hatha, a true visionary to her people. The sounds of the bells grew louder, as the pallbearer priestesses reached a large raised dais at the front of the hall. Once again, the mourners turned their faces to the front, to watch the priestess being placed upon the dais.

A man whom had been walking at the side of the procession, climbed elegantly to the top of the podium, and there, he began to speak.

"Death is a part of life. It is inevitable, and natural. It reminds us of the importance of living, and living well. T'Hatha, did that. T'Hatha spent her life encouraging the teachings of Surak to all that would listen, she accomplished a great many things, and a great many people are thankful to her. I wish to discuss with the people here something that may cause alarm. It is of the utmost importance, and I believe that this is the perfect time to broach the subject."

The room remained silent, and for a moment, T'Lin felt some concern over what was to come next. The room suddenly became awash with murmurs. This "discussion" that the speaker wanted to have was quite irregular.

"Please, be silent, this is disrespectful to T'Hatha" Continued the speaker. "T'Hatha believed in Surak, in logic, she believed that his was the right path. She also believed that we had lost our way. That we had become lazy. She was right. We have forgotten what Surak tried to teach us, and in doing so we have done ourselves a disservice. It is a grave injustice to those who fought to help us become what we are today, and we have forgotten. Today, I ask for change, I ask for s to remember what we are!" The speakers voice had risen, as had the murmurs of seemingly displeased parishioners. For a time no one spoke directly to the speaker, until T'Lin stepped forward, out of the crowd and close to the podium. She knew what part she had to play on this day. She stood silent, watching the speaker, and finally she spoke; "Are we to become Syrannites, are we to become extremists?"

"The Syrannites are not violent, they are harmless, they call for us to remember our ways." replied the speaker.

"Perhaps we are not ready" Continued T'Lin, "It is too soon."

"You would presume to know this, young one?" Asked the speaker.

"I would presume nothing, this 'demonstration' is unnecessary, and it is ill befitting for the funeral of a High Priestess, especially one of T'Hatha's standing."

"Do you believe the Syrannite movement to be wrong young one?" Asked the speaker.

T'Lin was silent for a moment, unsure of how to answer, unsure of how to make her feelings clear to the speaker. "I do not believe that the Syrannite movement is wrong" She answered.

"Then you believe that the Syrannite movement is right?"

T'Lin felt she had been dug into a hole, she was faced with a philosophical argument, and found her self wondering, if something is not wrong, then must that mean that it is right? T'Lin realised that the room had silenced once again, that the sounds made by fellow mourners had ceased, and now, suddenly, all eyes were on her.

"Well, are you going to answer young one? Do you believe that the Syrannite movement is right?"

"No." She answered

"No?"

"No"

"Ah, are you going to elaborate?"

"I do not believe that I can"

"If you believe something, young one, you must have a reason for believing it"

T'Lin simply stared at the man on the podium, she realised that when she at first decided to speak to him, she was so sure of what it was she felt needed to be said, and now, she simply felt confused. She knew in her heart that the Syrannite movement was not right, not for now. This wasn't the time to be stepping up their activities, she simply wanted to find a way to discourage them, only now, she was the one who felt discouraged.

"Ah!" Started the speaker, "Perhaps this child came to me today, simply to argue! Perhaps she is one who enjoys healthy debate, and does not care for what it is she is debating!" The speaker kneeled at the podium, "Come here young one." T'Lin did as she was told, and walked towards the speaker. "Why did you chose to challenge me?" He whispered to her. She felt that perhaps he'd decided to take their argument out of earshot.

"I… I do not believe that the Syrannites are wrong, but simply that we are not ready yet. We have not grown enough."

The speaker stared at T'Lin, and their attention was suddenly drawn to the fact that the crowds of people were now leaving the main hall. As one by one they filed out, the speaker stepped down from the podium, and stood beside T'Lin, "Walk with me young one."

T'Lin followed the speaker out into the hallways, "We must find privacy. We will go to the catacombs. It is fitting, that we would discuss the future of Vulcan-Kind, in a place of the past. Indeed the place, where our great visionaries rest."

T'Lin walked into the darkened catacombs with a large torch in her hands, the flame flickering, and lighting their path, deeper into the catacombs. She felt a certain eerie-ness, not simply because of the feeling of trespassing into the graves of many, but because she felt like a naughty child, knowingly doing something she shouldn't.

"Don't worry, I am sure they do not mind" said the speaker, "You young one, carry your emotions close to the surface, Syrann's followers do not."

"Then it is quite fortunate that I am not one of Syrann's followers,"

"No, not yet young one, but I have hope that one day you will be."

"Then you will be hoping for a very long time"

"Ah young one, you have a sense of humour. Tell me, have you spent any time amongst our friends on Earth?"

"I have spent some time on Earth yes, is it relevant?"

"Truthfully no, I simply wandered about the origins of that sense of humour"

T'Lin and the speaker walked through the catacombs some more, turning many corners into many more long corridors, until finally, the speaker decided to stop.

"Look around you young one, what do you see?" Asked the speaker, his features shimmering burnt orange in the torchlight.

"I see catacombs, tombs."

"Ah, young one, this, soon, shall be T'Hatha's final resting place. Tell me, young one, would it surprise you if I told you that T'Hatha was a great leader of the Syrannite movement?"

"Not remotely," deadpanned T'Lin,

"Ah there we go with that sense of humour again" The Speaker turned and looked T'Lin in the eye, "Tell me, why do you think that Vulcan is not ready for us?"

"Because.. The High Command are pretentious, and arrogant, they believe that they know best for Vulcan. They will not allow anyone to think otherwise."

"But that is not logical." Argued the speaker, "We are Vulcan, we are logical."

"The High Command is not logical. They don't see what is right for Vulcan, or rather, what will be right for Vulcan" Answered T'Lin,

"I Believe." Started the speaker, "that you know what is right for Vulcan. Even though you do not feel that we are ready yet. I believe that you could be a great asset to our movement."

T'Lin realised now where this conversation was heading.

"Do you indeed, Syrann." That, which was more of a statement than a question, stopped the speaker in his tracks.

"So, you know who I am, and when did you realise?"

"In the hall, about ten minutes after you began your speech."

"Ah, indeed. Well, tell me young one what you think to my offer?"

"I am unsure what I think,"

"Well, perhaps you should consider what I have said young one." Syrann looked once more at T'Lin, "It appears you have me at a disadvantage, what is _your _name young one?"

5

"**This One's from the Heart"**

_USS Destinare- Holodeck 1_

"_Wait til' I draw you near, wait til' you see that sunshine place, ain't nothing like it here. The best is yet to come babe, won't that be fine. The best is yet to come, come the day you'll be mine…." _

The sounds of the melodic voice filled the room, and the dancing and laughter was infectious. This, was a damn good day. That, was the conclusion Lana had come too. This was a damn good day.

Lana Olsson watched the lounge singer with mute satisfaction and a look of sheer joy on her face. Beside her, sat a man she had been trying endlessly to get off duty and into the Holodeck for weeks, a man she loved. A man whom… didn't seem to be enjoying himself at all.

She turned to him and looked deep into his chocolate brown eyes, and he turned back,

"What is the name of the 'lounge singer'?" The eminently stoic Vulcan asked.

"His name, is Vic Fontaine."

"And he is aware that he is a hologram?" He asked

"He is indeed."

"How did this come to be?"

"Vic Fontaine was a creation of a friend of a friend, this guy Felix, he decided to make Vic a hologram with a difference. He made him self aware, gave him free will, and the autonomy to control his program at will. Well, the original Vic that is."

"This version is a copy? Correct?"

"He is, he has all of the same capabilities as the other Vic though, He was a gift from a friend. I love it here Koss, its so wonderful." Lana looked at the Vulcan, and sighed quietly.

"Is their something wrong Commander?" Lana's sigh turned into a frown at that.

"Koss, you don't have to call me 'Commander' we are not on duty"

"Nevertheless, you are my first officer, and therefore deserve respect."

Koss turned back to face the singer, his arms by his side and a full glass in front of him. Lana

could tell her chief engineer was uncomfortable, informal social situations tended not to agree with him. She sighed and decided that she ought to be kind and let him of the hook.

"If you're uncomfortable here Koss, you can go, its alright, I'm not gonna force you to stay here."

He started to get up, and hesitated. She smiled, nodded her head, and mouthed "go."

"Thank you Commander, I shall return to my quarters. I will no doubt see you tomorrow Sir"

"Goodnight Koss"

"_When somebody loves you, its no good unless he loves you, all the way. Happy to be near you, when you need someone to cheer you - All the way. Taller than the tallest tree, that's how its got to feel. Deeper than the deep blue sea is, that's how deep it goes. That's how deep it goes- If its for real…."_

"I told you so." Lana turned towards the voice, and stood there with two rather large glasses of champagne, was her best friend and the Destinare's helmswoman, the Trill Yanara Noran.

"What was that, Lieutenant Commander?" Olsson asked with a wink,

"Oh, I told you so, Sir" Responded Noran as she handed her compatriot a drink.

" I know I'm not imagining things, I know the way he acts around me, there's something there, I feel it. I certainly have strong enough feelings myself, I love that damnable pointy eared, green blooded… Vulcan. And, and I have no idea how it happened.."

"But you're the first officer Lana, your not supposed to get involved with your staff anyway!"

"Oh come on its not as if I'm the Captain!"

"You might be, one day, you never know, what then?"

"God no, I don't want to think about that…"

"Perhaps you should see Andrews Lana…"

"I am not seeing a counsellor!"

The singing had stopped, and all of a sudden, a rather charming, and talented singer had pulled up a seat at their table.

"Ladies, ladies, what's the ruckus all about?" Vic Fontaine smiled a grin worth a million as he poured them more champagne.

Nobody said anything.

"Oh come on, am I gonna have to guess? Ok, well, let me see, you Lana, are pining over that handsome pointy eared fellow who just left, and you Yan, just see the whole thing as a big ol' waste of time? Right? Well lemme tell ya, that guy, your engineer? He's a cool cat. He ain't gonna be letting anyone in on how he _really _feels behind that unemotional mask anytime soon. But let me tell you another thing, Vulcan or no, he was lookin' at you sweetheart."

Lana put down her glass, smiled, and said "How about a tune, Vic?"

"Sure thing Doll face, any requests?"

"Yeah, Yeah, how about _"I've got the world on a string?"_

"Sure." Vic turned to his band "Alright, lets go boys "_I've got the world on a string"_

"_I've got the world on a string, sitting' on a rainbow. Got the string around my finger. What a world! What a life! I'm in love! I've got a song that I sing, I can make the rain go, anytime I move my finger. Lucky me, can't you see? I'm in love…."_

6

**London- 16th Century**

"_I failed. He's dead. It's over."_

"Captain Darren to Doctor Darren"

"Damn, computer, end program. Yes Dad?"

"Your dinner's getting cold, honey. You coming?"

"On my way." and with that, Doctor Sarah Darren, Chief Medical officer of the USS Destinare, exited the Holodeck.

**Relliketh, Bajor- 2355**

"_Now he shall watch you die."_

"Computer, end program." Said the Legate, taking one last look at his victim.

With that command, the faux-Cardassian enclave turned into the yellow Holodeck gridlines. At the same time, the steely visage of the aged Cardassian Legate, disappeared, revealing a young man in a Starfleet uniform with a golden collar and a single pip. His hair, dark blonde, and his nose, ridged, as was typical of his species. He brought his hand up to his ear and touched his earring, just for a second, before allowing his hand to fall by his side. He sighed, turned, and in two long strides, exited the Holodeck.

**Risa - 2376**

"_Marry me Skye, just, marry me.." _

"_Oh my god, Voy.."_

"_Well, Skye, are you going to answer?"_

"Andrews to Iban"

"Computer freeze program" Voy Iban sighed. "Yes Sk… Counsellor?"

"You are late for your counselling appointment Lieutenant"

"Oh, my, ok I am on my way, Iban out."

**P'Jem Monastery- 2149**

"_It appears you have me at a disadvantage, what is _your_ name young one?" _

T'Lin looked at Syrann.

"My name is T'Pau."

"I hope, T'Pau, that you will join us, eventually. Our movement would do well to have a leader like you."

"Perhaps." Replied T'Lin.

Suddenly the arch became visible, as did the doors to the Holodeck T'Lin was utilizing. The ships chief engineer, Lieutenant Commander Koss entered.

"Computer, freeze program" T'Lin stood to attention "Sir"

"Lieutenant, I require your assistance with…" Koss raised his eyebrow and turned his head quizzically, "This is a historical program?"

"Yes sir, I am playing the part of T'Pau"

"Intriguing…"

**USS Destinare- Holodeck 1**

"…_Lucky me, can't you see? I'm in love…."_

"Hmm, I think, I think I'll go talk to Koss"

"Oh no, Commander!" Yanara Noran complained.

"Yep, see you later. Computer, arch."

"This will only end in tears" Noran said to no one in particular, "Ah, waiter, more champagne!"


	2. Day One

-1Day One

_Part One _

_0900 hours_

_The day the mission begins. _

"Are you alright Lieutenant?"

Voy Iban, looked up from the interesting spot on the floor of the counsellors office, and looked at the face belonging to the voice he'd just heard. Counsellor Skye Andrews, sat across from him, on the other side of the coffee table where two mugs rested. He forced a smile.

"I'm fine counsellor."

"You seem distracted." She waited for a response, none was forthcoming. "I noticed you were at the Holodeck again before you came here. When you were late, I asked the computer where you were."

Lieutenant Iban, Chief security officer of the USS Destinare, had been under the care of Counsellor Andrews for eight months. The counsellor found that he had many things she felt he needed to work through, not least of those, something that in recent years had been termed "Holodiction."

"I had thought we were making some headway Voy. Were you on Risa again, after the Dominion War, with Annabelle?"

"Yes, I was."

"Ah. Did you ask her to marry you again? What did she say this time?"

"Nothing, she never got the chance. You interrupted."

"Are you angry that I interrupted?"

Voy said nothing. He didn't want to lie to her. In truth he felt angry. He felt that she had dragged him out of his life, and into an odd waking dream. He wanted to go back. He felt her eyes boring into him, analysing him and judging him. She smiled, and pushed a strand of her blazing red hair out of her eyes, before standing, picking up the empty mugs on the coffee table and walking towards the replicator. Voy followed her with his eyes across the purple hued, simple office, and then as she turned to face him, quickly averted his eyes back towards the floor.

"Would you like some more tea Lieutenant, perhaps some lunch also? I know how much you love _Oskoids_, would you like some?"

Voy froze. For a moment, he wondered whether she knew, before dismissing the notion as ridiculous. "No," he decided, "I am quite fine."

"As you wish Lieutenant." Her attention turned back towards the replicator, "Computer, iced tea with lemon please."

Voy laughed, and for the first time in quite a while, he smiled outside of the Holodeck.

"Is there something funny Lieutenant?"

"No counsellor, just… You said please to the replicator."

"Well I'm sure Lieutenant, that I am not the only one ever to do that."

After her drink materialized. Andrews walked back to her seat and sat down.

"Voy, I think there is something we need to discuss." She took a sip of her tea and put it back onto the table, and looked at him, and all of a sudden Voy felt as if he were back at the academy, and an admiral was about to chastise him for knowingly doing something he shouldn't have. He looked at her and sensed that Skye was upset with him, and angry at him for breaking his promise to her. This was about the Holodeck, it was always about the Holodeck. He decided that it would be easier if he broached the subject himself, rather than just waiting for her to say something.

"I am sorry I went back to the Holodeck after you asked me not too. I couldn't help it. I missed her."

"Voy, you know I can order you to stay away from the Holodeck for medical reasons. I was hesitant to do so. I thought you wanted to help yourself."

"I do counsellor, I do. Believe me, I wish I didn't feel the way I do. I really wish I didn't"

The counsellor sighed. She leaned forward and put her hands on her knees and simply watched her patient. Often she wondered how the man was so… normal, on duty. How he managed effortlessly to focus on his work and do a good job, when his private life was a mess. She wondered if today was the right day to ask him about Annabelle, all the while being completely aware that he could read her mind if he wanted to and wondering if she should be thinking anything at all. She stood, and moved to the side of her chair,

"Alright Lieutenant, perhaps we should call it a day. Same time tomorrow?"

Voy smiled and stood "Thank you counsellor." He moved to leave the office.

"Oh Lieutenant Iban. No Holodecks."

He left without responding to her "No Holodecks" comment. She was quick to note that on her PADD.

"Computer, what's my next appointment?"

"Ensign th'Vanna. 0930 hours"

"Thank you computer."

Andrews hummed as she used the time to pick up the PADD's she'd left lying around her office, she noticed that once again she'd allowed the place to fall into disarray, and she wondered if Iban had noticed the mess.

"Lieutenant Andrews, you have an incoming message on subspace." Came the familiar sound of the ships computer voice.

"From where computer?"

"The Federation Embassy on Cardassia Prime"

"Thank you computer"

Andrews hurried over to her computer terminal- Which was hidden underneath an old uniform jacket she'd left in her office. She quickly accepted the message and said to the caller; "Ah, just a minute" As she began to clear her chair of various PADD's so she could sit in it.

"Organised as always, huh Skye?" Came the voice from the terminal. Skye sat, and stared into the face of her husband, whom she hadn't seen in quite some time.

"Aden Hayes, your early. Maybe you should call back later?" She teased.

"Glad to see I'm welcome as always, hi honey" The handsome dark haired gentleman on the screen was one that Skye Andrews had been looking forward to seeing for quite some time.

"How is work at the embassy?" she asked.

"Oh, full of beurocrats and red tape as always." Skye heard the sigh in her husbands voice as he spoke --He sounded tired, no doubt he'd had it with the endless talking and trading of insults with Cardassian officials.

"Ah the life of an interstellar diplomat. I'm glad you're enjoying it. We've got a lot to catch up on, lets see, where do we start?"

Voy Iban stood in the turbo lift. He wasn't going anywhere just yet, he simply stood there in the turbo lift, unsure of what was going to happen next. He'd had one of his security officers cover his shift while he attended his appointment, and so still had another hour before he was actually due back on duty. He decided he really should go home, because the last thing he needed was the temptation to go back to the Holodeck. Holodeck, damn he should not have thought about it. Now he wouldn't be able to forget, and whatever he did next would be overshadowed by the word 'Holodeck' popping incessantly into his skull over and over again. Now he couldn't forget.

"Computer… Is Holodeck Two free?"

"Affirmative" replied the computer.

"Ah.. Computer… Ten Forward."

Ten Forward was a hive of activity as usual. Iban ordered his drink, and sat alone in a dark corner he managed to find. He took a sip of his synthale and leaned back into his chair, and opened his mind to the everyday goings on of the ship and crew, and suddenly, his head was awash with the thoughts of others.

"… _Damn Gel Pack failed again… Second one this week… "_

"…_I wish Emilie would do her homework, she's going to fail calculus…"_

"… _Calculus is boring… I hate math anyway…" _

"… _I don't love him anymore. I wish I could tell him but I just don't love…" _

"… _I'm a failure… Just like father… Just like father…" _

"… _Illogical… Simply Illogical…"_

"… _I love you…"_

"… _I HATE YOU!…" _

"… _hmm hmmm…sitting' on a rainbow. … hmmm Mmm…I've got a song that I sing,"_

"Damn, Damn, Damn it." Iban slammed his glass down, left his seat and headed straight out of the door and into the nearest turbo lift.

"Holodeck 2."

After arriving at the Holodeck moments later, Iban looked at the control panel and saw that someone was already in the Holodeck.

"Computer, what program are they running?"

"There is no program currently active."

Iban was confused as to why someone would simply stand in an unoccupied Holodeck. Out of curiosity he decided to enter, but was not prepared for what he saw when he did; Counsellor Andrews, stood there in the middle of the room, with her hands on her hips and a frown on her face.

Now he was in trouble.

"Counsellor!"

"Lieutenant, I had the computer alert me, if you even went within ten metres of a Holodeck. I had to cut short a call from my husband for this."

"Ah, A little over the top, don't you think… ten metres..?"

Counsellor Andrews barely suppressed an almost amused snort.

"Evidently not Lieutenant! All things considered, I think it was a pretty good idea!"

Iban realised the absurdity of what he'd just said. His heart sank as he also realised that he'd failed yet again. He looked into the eyes of his counsellor and wished he could tell her the truth about "Annabelle." He wished she knew just how difficult this all was for him, he also knew that in telling her he would doom himself. And hurt her…

Ultimately he knew that his feelings were ones that he'd have to keep to himself. Forever. He could do that. No problem.

_Yeah right, you're a fool Voy._

"Lieutenant, I am ordering you, to stay away from the Holodecks. It is in my opinion that your addiction, if allowed to continue unchecked could severely compromise your duties on board this vessel. Lieutenant, I do not want to be forced to relieve you of duty, but I will, if I feel that I have to. Do you understand Lieutenant?"

Voy felt utterly deflated. He had failed himself and his counsellor, and now, things were only going from bad to worse.

_How the hell did all this fall apart in such a short time?_

Voy stood there for several minutes after Lieutenant Andrews had already left. He had made a decision to remain onboard Destinare when the vessel went in for her refit, even though he struggled with these 'problems'. Even the uncomfortable sessions with this particular counsellor didn't deter him from remaining onboard the ship. He felt as though it was home, where he'd made a life for himself. Even if that life was just a fantasy.

_What life? The fantasy that you can take anywhere? That's no reason to stay. _

"So why am I here?" He asked, he just wished he knew who he was talking to, who he should talk to. Probably not the counsellor in this case.

The noise was deafening, the incessant humming of the vessels engines was louder than it had to be, surely. Perhaps they simply sounded louder in the disused service tunnel, that currently was serving another purpose --as a makeshift shelter, and sleeping area. The woman utilizing it as such, laughed quietly. It occurred to her, that if she didn't find sustenance soon, it'd be a makeshift grave as well, and since the apparatus she wore attached to her arm --designed to mask her lifesign's-- was working perfectly, she wagered it would be quite a while before she was found.

It seemed to her that while her benefactors gave her every piece of equipment she would need to accomplish her mission, they neglected to take into account her survival for the duration. She would need to find food. She searched through the rather heavy pack that usually resided on her back, until she found the item she needed -- a rather impressive, expertly designed personal cloaking device-- a device which would no doubt aid her in her quest, but for now, the ship was too busy, she'd wait until night shift.

_Part Two_

_1030 hours_

"_What a world! What a life! I__'__m in love!…" _Commander Lana Olsson didn't notice the raised eyebrows and looks she was receiving as she sang her way to the bridge, excited for her first day of official duty as the first officer of the USS destinare.

"Deck 1, bridge," She told the computer almost before she even stepped into the turbolift, all the while continuing to hum the tune she'd danced to the night before. One she'd arrived, she took a moment to look around at her charges, proudly manning the bridge, even while the ship was still in drydock. The Captain, she assumed, was in his ready room being… ready. The rest of the senior staff looked to be at their stations already, with the exception of the counsellor, whom she'd yet to meet.

One by one, the bridge crew, _her_ bridge crew, met her gaze as she watched them.

Her long time friend, and the best pilot she'd ever have the pleasure of meeting, Lieutenant Commander Yanara Noran, winked at her from the helm, in front of the large overbearing view screen at the front of the ship. Beside her sat Ensign Kell Alig at the Ops station, a Bajoran man whom despite being six years out of the academy, had yet to receive a promotion to Lieutenant. She'd spoken to him briefly when she first came onboard, her impression of him was that he was somewhat reserved, and perhaps his perpetual state of Ensign-hood could be, in some manner, attributed to that.

Olsson looked at the rest of the bridge, she found the ships' Betazoid tactical officer manning his station, with his eyes drawn towards his console, and behind him, Lieutenant T'Lin, the science office, sat tall on her stool, looking at a set of readouts on the monitor. To T'Lin's right, was a man whom appeared to be assisting her from the engineering station -- Her friend, and unbeknownst to him, the object of her affection-- The second person she'd brought with her from their old ship, Lieutenant Commander Koss, chief engineer, extraordinaire. For a moment she allowed herself to simply stand there and watch him, until…

"Commander Olsson, to my ready room." Came the voice following the chirp from her comm badge.

She averted her gaze, and turned on her heels and marched into the ready room of her awaiting captain.

"Commander!" Captain Ross Darren greeted her with a warm smile and an open hand.

"Captain." She smiled back as she shook it.

"Commander I would like to introduce you to the ships chief medical officer, and my daughter, Doctor Sarah Darren."

Olsson turned as a woman, whom she hadn't noticed was there, stood from the sofa opposite from the Captain's desk. She quickly masked her surprise.

"Pleasure to meet you Doctor," She smiled warmly,

"Likewise, Commander." replied the doctor.

"Commander," The captain said as he turned towards his desk, one within reach he turned the computer console around so that it was in everyone's line of sight. "What do you make of these?" Lana looked at the console where she saw a representation of small energy fluctuations, similar to the readouts she saw Koss and T'Lin working on.

"Are they tachyons?" She looked closer "Only minute traces. Where did these readings come from?" The Captain proceeded to tell her that they have been picking up traces for over a week, coming from an area around the engines, although they were unable to pinpoint exactly where. He then proceeded to point out that up until now, the mysterious tachyons hadn't proven to be any kind of a threat and that people were on it but where no closer to figuring out where they were coming from.

"Your thoughts Commander?"

"Well sir, its certainly strange. Strange enough for me to think that its probably a malfunction with the sensors. Causing echoes maybe. Ghosts to appear out of nothing. Its my understanding that this first appeared round about the time when the systems upgrade took place?"

"Correct commander, and as it is, my science officer, and the engineer you brought with you, so far agree with your assessment. As it stands, I don't think this should have any bearing on our mission, are you in agreement commander?"

"As of now sir, yes. In the meantime, I'll have Koss run a level one diagnostic on the sensor array."

"Very well commander, that will be all"

"Thank you sir. Ill be on the bridge"

"Oh and, welcome aboard Commander."

"Thank you sir," She smiled, before turning and leaving the Captain on his own with his daughter.

"She's young" Sarah Darren said to her father, he nodded in agreement.

"That's certainly true, she rose through the ranks quickly, but comes highly recommended."

"But you wouldn't have chosen her, if Admiral Thomas hadn't taken it upon himself to staff your ship for you."

"Probably not. We shouldn't judge too soon, her skills have yet to be tested. Now my dear, don't you have a medical staff to meet?"

Lana sat in the Captains chair, ran her arms down the rests, tapped the display at her fingertips, and smiled. She looked up at the stars stretched across the view screen and sighed contently at the sight.

"So, the Captain's chair agrees with you Lana?" Asked her friend and comrade from the helm.

"I think, yeah, I think so Yan" Replied the Commander, although her reply was muffled by the sound of the 'harrumph' from the ops station.

Olsson looked at Ensign Kell.

"Is there a problem Ensign?"

The Ensign said nothing.

"Ensign I asked you a question?" Ensign Kell Alig turned round to look at his first officer.

"Well?" Asked Olsson.

"Sir, we are not friends in a bar, we are officers on duty. The bridge shouldn't be treat as a social meet and greet." Now Lana was beginning to understand why the man was still an Ensign after six years.

"Ensign, I don't discourage crewmembers from talking to one another. As long as it doesn't interfere with their duties, and since we are sitting in drydock doing nothing, I think we'll be ok."

The Ensign gave her a sour look, before turning back to his duties.

Lana sighed, and had the feeling that in all likelihood, the Ensign wasn't going to be the only crewmember who had a problem with her.

_1130 hours_

"Commander?"

Olsson looked up from her "window-seat" in Ten Forward, to see the face of Lieutenant Commander Koss staring down at her.

"Oh. Hi." She replied, the frown she wore on her face obscured by the glass full of cloudy yellow liquid she held in her hand.

"Commander, are you well?"

"Fine… fine, why wouldn't I be? I'm just enjoying a break."

"Is that alcohol?" The Vulcan asked pointedly, one eyebrow raising as he did so.

"Oh, well, I've just had a busy day on the bridge. That's all."

"Commander, you were on the bridge for less than an hour, and it is not even midday yet."

"Right. Yes, well it's apparent to me I am going to have to convince a few people of my leadership skills, and I think… I'm not quite up to the task. At least, certainly… Well I wasn't prepared for people not to have faith in me. Koss," she started, staring up at a face that…

_I should not be thinking things like that! _

"Yes Commander?"

"Don't just stand there, pull up a chair." He did so, and sat, ramrod straight, waiting for his first officer to speak.

"What do you think Koss? I mean, we've known each other for a long time…"

"I," he began, "I, believe that you are a capable leader, more than suited to the task at hand. However, as you said, we have known one another for quite some time. The majority of the crew of the Destinare however, are faced with the prospect of a new and untested leader. They do not know you. I believe that they will afford you all the respect that is due a first officer, however, if it is their "faith" you want, you may have to earn it."

Lana looked up at the soft and yet firm features of a friend whom she cared for deeply, and smiled. She knew exactly what to expect from him, and that was the way she liked it.

"How come your in here anyway? Its not one of your regular hang outs?"

"I came looking for you Commander, I wanted to make sure that you were ok"

"Ah, well thank you Koss, that's very sweet of you."

Koss raised his eyebrow, "Indeed."

Later that same day, Lana found herself going over her conversation with commander Koss, over and over again. She knew he was right. He usually was. She found that often he was willing to serve as more than a friend, but also as her confidant and counsellor. Problem was, she wished desperately that he was even more than that, and yet she still couldn't find the strength to tell him so.

More than anything she felt afraid that he would dismiss it as being "illogical."

"_Computer, begin recording. Commander Lana Olsson, Personal log, Stardate 57912.9"_

"_I am stuck in a rut here. My duty, my personal life. I was so excited this morning, I positively had a spring in my step. Walking down the corridors, singing songs I listened to at Vic's last night…Like an, IDIOT! God knows what the crew thought of their 'duty bound professional, first officer!' This is my first posting as first officer and I thought I was ready. I'm having doubts. I spoke to Koss about it, he came and found me drowning my sorrows over synthale at 1130 in the morning! He seems to think they just need to get to know me, or something to that effect. Now that we are talking about Koss, I feel depressed again. I love him. I really do. Every part of me, loves that Vulcan. Of course, that only means I'll be sad and alone for the rest of my life, and if I tell him, I'll lose one of my best friends as well. (laughing) My god! My life is supposed to be serious, the first officer of a galaxy class Starship! Instead its… it's a holo-soap opera! God damnit. Damn the whole god damned thing! End log."_

She'd waited as long as she could. She tried to sleep for a time, but oblivion simply wasn't forthcoming. Nobody ever said service ducts made comfortable beds, and nobody ever would, least of all her.

She was starving, she hadn't eaten in days, and while it was true that she had resolve, she simply didn't have that much. She had to be careful, she knew that they would be picking up residual stray tachyons from her cloak. Even while it was inactive, the device put out a lot of energy. She couldn't risk using it while they had nothing to distract them from every single little energy fluctuation. There would be little point in masking her lifesign's if the cloak drew her to their attention now. No, she couldn't go yet. Not now, it was too soon.

"I wish I'd brought rations." She said to nobody in particular.

_Part Three_

_1145 hours_

I did not expect to find myself back here again. I found my previous encounter with this program to be somewhat uncomfortable. The character known as Vic Fontaine seemed to be overly aware of his environment, and those within it. It was as if he were telepathic. This, I found to be quite unexplainable. I would not expect a hologram --that which is not real-- to be so, astute.

Nevertheless, after my visit to Commander Olsson in Ten Forward, I seem to have found myself in his presence once again.

"So, kiddo, want a tune?" He sat down beside me and asked me that question. He seemed quite eager to sing again, I however, did not come here to listen to him do so. I told him as much.

"This is a club kiddo! People come in for a tune, why are you here if you don't wanna listen?" I do not know.

"What, so your feet just wandered in here of their own accord?" That would be quite absurd.

"Well why else would you have wondered into a place you don't wanna be?" I say nothing.

"Want a drink? Huh pointy?"

"Please do not refer to me as 'pointy'"

"Well you know I've never seen a Vulcan before, at least not this version of me anyway." I am unsure what I should say to the hologram. It seems saying anything at all to that which is little more than photons and force fields would be quite illogical. I am vaguely aware that there is something I would like to mention to the hologram, something which I believe he would be able to assist me with, but I am unsure if I should. I look around the room, at the primitive earth décor, at the empty stage and the instruments that are not being played. I decide my behaviour is unbecoming of a Vulcan, and of a senior officer. I get up to leave.

"Whoa, whoa! Pally we're ya goin'?" I tell him that I am leaving. He looks at me. He laughs at me.

He _laughs_ at me?

Why is he laughing?

"Why are you laughing?"

"Oh, pally, your clueless! Your totally clueless, its almost funny! It is funny!" Please explain.

"Its her isn't it? That's why you're here?" Again I say nothing, I am unsure of what the correct response should be. I sit back down.

"Yeah, I thought as much. Your date didn't go too well the other night did it?" There was no date.

"Sure there was pally, you just didn't know it."

I am fairly certain that there was no date.

"Don't be an idiot, your smarter than that. You were lookin' at her. I saw you. Don't deny it, I saw you. Not surprising as well. That long chestnut hair, with those big curls and those full lips. She's a looker alright." I think you are mistaken.

"No I don't think so. The sad thing is, to her, it was a date alright. She loves you kiddo. She loves you. Almost thought my heart might break just looking at her after you left."

That is quite illogical.

"What, love?"

Indeed.

"Your right, your absolutely right, love is illogical. Its emotional, its amazing. Its elating. Its also heart breaking, soul destroying."

Quite illogical.

"Quite. But absolutely worth the risk."

Commander Olsson cannot love me, it would be, inappropriate.

"Hey, love knows no bounds, kiddo."

Vic Fontaine stands, he walks over to his stage, and four other men materialize. They pick up instruments.

"How about a tune?" That will not be necessary.

"Nonsense." The band begins to play, and Vic, begins to sing. I do not listen to the song, I am too distracted. I am thinking about Commander Olsson. I am thinking about Lana. I am unsure what I am meant to do. Lana is my CO. A romance between the Chief Engineer and the CO would not be encouraged. I realise that I care for Lana. Otherwise I would not have come back to Vic's. I would not have come looking for advice.

I cannot love Lana.

I am Vulcan.

I do not love.

The song is over.

He asks me, "did you enjoy it?" I lie.

"Yes."

"That's funny, I'm sure I once heard that Vulcan's were incapable of lying."

Very astute.

He asks me what I am going to do next, if I am going to talk to Lana. I do not know. This is a situation that I am unaccustomed to.

A waiter brings me a drink. I tell Vic that Vulcan's do not drink alcohol.

"Hey pally, its holographic alcohol, its about as real as I am." True.

I take a drink, the beverage is sweet and cold.

"What do you think to the wine?" It is agreeable.

"Good pally, good."

Vic is quiet for a while. He looks at me.

"She was watching you all night, and you were watching her. Every time you noticed she was looking, and turned to face her, she turned away. She was happy though. Just being here with you. Real happy kiddo. Didn't you see that smile on her face? Like she had the entire world at her feet. 'Cause of you. 'Cause of you."

I am unsure how to react. What do I do now?

"Well pally, this love business that Vulcan's don't do? See the thing is, you should really try it out. Like the wine, you might find it 'agreeable'."

_Part Four_

_1145 Hours_

She rolls on her side. The blanket doesn't provide much of a cover from the cold metal plating beneath her body. The lack of food is really starting to take its tolls. She feels weak, has no energy. She tries to nap, but is afraid she'll sleep for hours because she's just so weak, so tired. She has a mission to complete. She's telling herself, over and over;

_Think of the mission, think of the mission._

The mission is all that is important. Every hardship that she'll have to endure, is for the mission. Every hardship will only add to her character, make her stronger.

She simply had to fight passing out for a little while longer. She'll feel better once she gets water, food. She'd feel better if it wasn't so damned hot. She simply cannot wait. She must move around a little, or she'll just fall asleep. She grabs her pack, and holds it in one hand while she crawls through the access tunnel. She reaches the exit. It was time for lunch.

She attached the personal cloak to her uniform jacket arm, and put the pack on her back. She then activated the cloak, opened the exit, and climbed out. She could hear something, she stood still next to the open hatch.

"… I don't like her… I don't like her style." She heard a male voice.

"The only reason why you don't like her is because she's your age and already a Commander." Came a female reply.

She saw a Bajoran man and a Human woman walk past. They stopped.

She tensed up, and stood perfectly still, realising belatedly that if they could see her that standing still wasn't going to do much good anyway.

"Hey that service hatch is open." The man said.

"It shouldn't be, those small access tubes haven't been used for regular access since the ship was built." The woman replied.

"Ill close it. Go on." The woman continued walking while the man came over to close the hatch. He did so. He lingered. For a moment he looked at the hatch.

She watched him, all the while holding her breath and hoping that he carried on walking.

Much to her relief, the man soon continued on his way.

She allowed herself to exhale slowly, afraid that the air displacement might be noticed by someone. She tapped the computer panel along the wall, and located the nearest replicator;

Moments later she found herself intruding in a crewman's empty quarters, and using theirs. She replicated herself enough food to last a few days, although wasn't all that enthusiastic about eating a federation diet. She'd allow herself to become desperately dehydrated up until this point, and realised that since she was allowing herself to eat and drink again, she'd have to locate lavatory facilities before she could return back to her metal coffin. She left the crewman's room, and noticed as she walked out into the corridor that this section of the ship seemed to have a lot of traffic. She held herself as close to the wall as she could get as people walked past. One entered the quarters she'd broken into, it appeared she'd located its occupant. As the traffic in the corridor dwindled again, she decided that now was probably the right time to access the computer panel and find the vessel's… Facilities.


End file.
